


Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie

by tisfan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [16]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Period-Typical Homophobia, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Angie’s got schnapps and pie.Peggy wants some.





	Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie

 

"I got a bottle of schnapps and half a rhubarb pie; let's see which one makes us sick first."

Peggy had almost said no to the offer, the way she said no to almost every offer given her; if she couldn’t punch it, stab it, or mock it, she didn’t want it. Nothing came close to the way Steve had made her feel and some days she just didn’t know how to move past that.

“Come on, English, live a little,” Angie had said, leaning over the counter and with her American fresh-faced beauty and her eager, conspiratorial smile, Peggy had given in. Angie had been right; Peggy wasn’t living. She was surviving. Steve wouldn’t have wanted that. Surely not.

“All right,” Peggy had said, “but I get first go at the schnapps.”

Which was how she found herself giggling and throwing herself backward like a demented starfish on Angie’s rickety, narrow spinster bed. The only redeeming feature of which was the quilt made out of scraps of party dresses, all soft velvet and slick silk.

“I daresay this is a luxury,” Peggy remarked, rolling over to run her fingers over the fine materials.

“It’s nice enough,” Angie said. She started peeling out of her starchy, uncomfortable waitress dress. “‘Specially to lay on, when you’re all nekkid and stuff.” She took another swig out of the bottle of schnapps, wiped her lips off with her fingers, and passed the bottle. The pie was long gone, before even a third of the bottle had been empty, and Peggy hoped it didn’t make her sick, because that would be a waste of a damn fine pie. The crust had been effortless and light, the filling sweet and sticky, but not too much of either.

Peggy considered the bottle, tipped it up and let the fire roll onto her tongue. “Do you suppose, darling, that _stuff_ is something we aim to be attempting?”

Angie stopped undressing and stared.

For a long moment, Peggy worried that she’d totally misread the situation, that a little bit of girl time didn’t mean the same thing to her as it did to Angie, and that she’d both shocked and offended her only real friend. And then Angie smiled, a little sunny and a lot impish. “Aw, English, I ain’t gonna attempt nothin’. What I am gonna do is make you flip your wig.”

Peggy took another swig off the bottle, then set it aside. “Do your best,” she challenged.

Angie took a few minutes to strip out of most of her clothes, including the rack-smasher she wore to keep her breasts firm and high against her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief as she worked the hooks open. She was quite a bit more stacked than she looked, all buttoned up, and she didn’t exactly look flat then, either. Peggy wondered that her back wasn’t killing her on a regular basis, as deep and red as those press-creases were.

“Come here, darling,” Peggy said, and got Angie laying on the soft, plush comforter, face down and started rubbing her back, using the tips of her fingers to massage the red marks where her brassiere had marred her skin.

“Oh, marry me,” Angie groaned into the blanket. “Make an honest woman of me, English.”

Peggy was just as glad Angie wasn’t looking at her, since Peggy knew that her mask of carefree English woman just working for the telephone company slipped. There was no way she could make an honest woman of anyone. Peggy Carter was not an honest woman herself. “Sounds like too much work, darling.” She stroked Angie’s skin, running eight fingers down her back, curling down her sides and making Angie squirm delightfully.

“You are a wonderful human being, an’ I don’t deserve you none a’ t’all,” Angie murmured.

“And yet, you keep attempting to persuade me otherwise,” Peggy retorted. She tugged on the thick bands of Angie’s girdle. “No, don’t move, darling, stay right there, I’ll take care of you.”

“Promises, promises,” Angie said.

Peggy ran her hands down over the fabric, testing the springiness of Angie’s buttocks, then, “suck in.” Angie obeyed, pliant and sweet, and Peggy lifted her up, practically, yanking the thick, uncomfortable garment down Angie’s long, sweetly rounded legs. The woman had a dancer’s leg, thick in the calf, but pretty, with trim ankles. The stockings went next until Angie was laying, naked and sprawled out, under Peggy, who still had all her clothes and gear on.

Damn it. She’d have to undress herself without aid, which she was certainly used to doing, but Angie might be stupid and ask questions if she saw the gun that Peggy wore strapped to her thigh. Not to mention the half dozen or more thin combat blades that she’d taken to carrying. Angie didn’t know about Peggy’s past, or her present, and if she started asking questions about those things, there might not be a future, either.

“Have some more schnapps, darling,” Peggy said. “Relax. I’ll just get comfortable.” She shucked her skirt and blouse in record time, tucking the blades and gun inside and wrapping the whole thing into a ball. She toed it under Angie’s bed, knowing later she would grab the whole bundle up and dash for her room, dressed only in her maidenforms and hoping to hell that no one saw her.

Angie had rolled over somewhere in there, but the easy smile on her face didn’t indicate that she’d seen anything untoward, so Peggy allowed herself to relax, a little.

“Come on, English,” Angie said, spreading her thighs invitingly.

“Are you in a hurry, darling?”

“Always,” Angie said, eyebrows waggling suggestively.

“Don’t bother yourself,” Peggy told her. “I’ll take you there.”

“Now is better than later.”

Peggy crawled into bed with her friend, pressing down on her body, feeling that smooth skin, that heat, the traces of talcum on her belly that made the slide between them perfect. “Not just yet,” and she shut Angie up by reaching between her legs and stroking her, slow and easy. Teasing at her tight thighs, inching closer to the center of her.

That rosebud silk of Angie’s nipple tempted her, and Peggy closed her mouth over it, sucking and licking until Angie was sprawled, gracelessly, under her, arms around Peggy’s neck, shivering.

“You have to be quiet, darling,” Peggy scolded, a smile touching her mouth. “Someone might hear us.”

Angie grabbed Peggy’s chin with one hand and directed her mouth back to a useful place. The smear of Peggy’s lipstick was already all over Angie’s skin, so she might as well mark it some more. She licked a circle on Angie’s collarbone, then sucked at the spot, drawing the blood to the surface.

Angie was wet and moaning by the time Peggy slid her fingers inside. Two, carefully, because her nails were long and manicured. She gave enough thickness for Angie to clench on, and used her thumb against that little nob of flesh that gave out such pleasure.

Sounds, obscene and wet and needy, came out of Angie’s throat, and Peggy had to kiss them away. They would both be homeless if they were found out; no men in the rooms did not get them out of the _depraved behavior_ clause.

Peggy straddled Angie’s thigh and moved her hips down, grinding against Angie’s pelvis. It was both awkward and awakening, looking down and seeing Angie looking up. So pretty, so perfect, like a little bird, just mouth open and eyes shining and…

Sweat gathered against her neck, sliding in cool drips down her back as they worked together to find the perfect angle, the perfect alignment that made the sore muscles and the awkwardness go from “this is too much work” to “oh, oh, oh, yes.” Angie seemed to view the whole thing as a challenge and she shifted and slithered under Peggy like a snake, her skin rubbing and her limbs moving, and then…

Then it was just right. They moved together, hips rolling like the ocean, touching and pleasing and heat and sensation. Angie pursed her lips like she was preparing to whistle and blew a cold stream of air over Peggy’s sex-heated skin. Delicious chills ran up her belly and down her spine and her toes were curling and…

They twisted against each other, moving toward the same goal. It wasn’t perfect harmony, and it was more than a little hard on Peggy’s wrist. Her trigger finger would be aching the next day, the way she was bracketed on the mattress, holding herself up. What she wouldn’t do to have a handle on the side of the bed!

And then it didn’t matter, because she was crying out, mewling softly against her wrist, muffling the sounds she was making, high pitched keening and inarticulate cries.

“English!” Angie arched up, thrusting up with her hips until her back made a perfect curve against the bed, and that tipped everything over the side. Peggy shuddered and shivered with delicious heat, her thighs clamping down until she was squeezing Angie’s hip with all her might.

Angie lay back, panting, her whole body twitching in little delightful quivers.

“You are so very lovely, darling,” Peggy told her friend, pushing the pin curls out of Angie’s face, half untwisted and damp with sweat.

“You say that now,” Angie joked, “but wait til you wake up to me. Medusa-hair, all the way.”

“I look forward to it,” Peggy said, knowing that no such thing would happen. She would gather her things and be on her way before the sun touched the sky, and the other woman might pat the blanket for a moment, but in the end, that was best for both of them.

Angie just nodded, like she understood everything that Peggy wasn’t saying.

“I’ll let you know,” she said, softly, “next time I got another pie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from song of the same name by Jay and the Techniques


End file.
